


The Musings of Love

by theoraclespecialist



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Emotional, Emotional Mickey, Future Fic, Homosexual love, Ian in an accident, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of bipolar, Mickey pours his heart out, Mickey there for him, Mickey's love for Ian expressed through words, Will add more tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoraclespecialist/pseuds/theoraclespecialist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ian lands up in coma after a severe car accident, Mickey is advised to talk to him in his unconscious state. What starts as random chatter in the silence ends up being more insightful as Mickey reveals more and more about his thoughts on the couple's past, present and future, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their secrets. Basically, Mickey rambling about everything Ian and their relationship. </p><p>Find me on tumblr with your prompts: sodetectivegalaxy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Day 1

The good news was that Ian had survived the operation. When Mickey received a phone call from an unknown number at two in the morning, he was bombarded by a jolt of panic. Ian had been involved in a car accident that afflicted him with a number of severe injuries to the head and the body. The Gallaghers’ and a few of Milkoviches’ conglomerated at the hospital and waited the whole night. Mickey paced up and down the waiting room and kept his eyes on the door that led to the operation area. Every time a nurse strolled through the door, he would sprint down to her and demand an update. A few minutes before dawn, Mickey collapsed on the floor and held his breath to suppress his tears. His lungs ached for the poison of tobacco but that would mean slipping out of the hospital and he couldn’t afford that if his sanity was in any way dear to him. Mandy got him a few cans of soda from the vending machine and he slurped it with the impatience of a wild animal. He called Svetlana to check on Yevgeny and she offered to keep him for a few days; no schedule should interfere in times of crisis. 

At seven in the morning, the doctor emerged out of the operation room and disrupted the slumber that had swept across the room. Mickey had been the first to spot him so he jumped out of the chair to talk to him. First, he relayed the good news. Before Mickey’s head could be relieved of the overwhelming tension, the doctor then proceeded to share the bad news: Ian was now comatose. 

“Here’s the situation, Mr…”

“Milkovich,”

“It is a common occurrence for patients who have suffered injuries of this multitude. He’ll be unconscious for three to four weeks and if he does wake up, then we’ll have conduct tests on him,”

“Tests? What kind of fucking tests? Are you fucking…?”

Thankfully, that’s when Fiona stepped in to consult with the doctor. Mickey faltered towards the chair and dropped down. Mandy tried to solace him by holding his hand but he wouldn’t budge. Ian was moved to a room from the OS and the family took turns to visit him. Mickey didn’t see the point of wanting to see an unconscious Ian, not when he wouldn’t be awake for weeks. He lingered outside the room, his knees wobbly, his head buried in his hands. The Gallaghers’ were starting to leave. Fiona took a seat next to Mickey and spoke softly. “He’ll be okay, Mickey,”

He didn’t say anything; his mind was torn by conflicting forces of both despair and concern. 

“Dr. Gordon advised us to talk to him,”

“Fuck it will do if he can’t hear us,”

“He could, at least that’s what the doctor told us,” said Fiona. Her lips parted and she rubbed her brow. “Look, I’ll be back in the evening, okay? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to…”

Fiona stood up to leave and he looked up at her, his eyes simmering wet. Fiona leaned down and enveloped him in a tight embrace. He responded, not only because he needed this solidarity of sorrow but because in the six years he’d been together with Ian, the Gallaghers’ have become his family. “He’ll be fine, you know that,” assured Fiona, before hoofing out of the waiting room. 

Mickey thought he’d collected himself but as soon as he plodded into the room and caught side of the redhead lying down flat on the bed, an IV attached to his left hand and his head wrapped in bandages, the composure tumbled and he submitted to the avalanche of tears that swept through him. It took awhile before he mustered the courage to move closer and when he did, he wished he hadn’t because Ian’s shriveled hand just laid dead in response to his touch. At that exact moment, a nurse ambled in and took out a syringe from the bedside table. “Sorry to interrupt you,”

“Does it look like you’re interrupting anything?” Mickey said bitterly. “Jesus, he can’t feel anything,” 

“He can’t respond to anything. That’s the difference you should keep in mind,” said the nurse with a plucky smile. “I think you should continue interacting with him, he might just hear you,” 

The nursed nodded and left the room. Mickey pulled up a chair next to the bed and continued holding that hand gently. He cleared his throat, wiped his tear and thought why the fuck not. “You did me a solid one, Gallagher,” he began. 

Of course, Mickey didn’t expect Ian to rouse and react but felt disappointed nonetheless when his voice evoked no effect out of the younger one. “Don’t you have the minimum sense to stay clear of dangerous roads in the middle of the night or are you just a little dumb in the head, huh?”

“Now, you got all your folks drowning in seven feet of worry. You do realize I gotta take a few days off work now? Yeah, yeah, you’re just gonna say that ‘Mick, it’s not like you work all that much anyways’ but you’re wrong, freckle pooch. Just because I own the business doesn’t mean I don’t work my ass off running the numbers, splitting the dough and rubbing engines every now and then,”

Mickey chuckled. “You know who really works my ass off? Some shithead of a ginger. It’s a good thing you and I got it on yesterday before you left for work. Those orgasms might last me a century, you know, since I can barely fucking walk,”

“I know I sound like a sad, retarded fucker now, talking to an unconscious mummy. But what the fuck can I do? The smarmy doctors think they’ve got it all figured out and they think talking aloud will probably pick on some of those nerves in your carrot head and get you to wake up. What’s this, some sort of exorcist dumb shit?” 

Mickey paused and softly placed his finger on his chest to scan for a heartbeat. “But I gotta try, Gallagher. I mean, I get…fucking bored without you. Without you shouting at me to do my chores, to be good to Yevy, to turn off the fucking lights, to change the sheets…I don’t have much to do, you know,”

“I’m getting hungry, kinda. Haven’t eaten anything since that shit lasagna you made before you left. I blame you. Fuck you,” he said, as he stood up. He leaned down to kiss his boyfriend on his forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit,”

Day 2:

“God, that kid is going to be one scarred motherfucker, isn’t he?” said Mickey, munching through a bag of potato chips. 

Yevgeny, accompanied by Svetlana, came to visit in the morning. Yev’s face was haunted by consternation so before Ian’s unconscious state could induce nightmares for the kid, Mickey sent him away. He told Svetlana to take good care of him. “And you too take care. Orange boy can handle it himself,”

Mickey remained puzzled at her sage advice but continued staying at the hospital room. “I mean, get this. One dad’s an ex-pimp, juvie-rounding Milkovich, one dad’s a bipolar, ex-dancer army criminal and his mother used to be a pro. How fucked-up is that? Though I gotta point out that we ain’t any of those things anymore. The pimping days are over, Lana doesn’t turn tricks anymore and well, you…you are the perfect little dad to Yev, aren’t ya?”

“Fuck, it’s not like you got any reason to treat Yev as your son. Let’s for a fucking minute assume that he is actually my son, that would mean he was conceived with you in the room. If not biologically, through some fucking math, he’s gotta be related, right? Christ, I don’t even know. Still, that didn’t mean you had to stand up and parent that child. I guess it must be with you Gallaghers’ and your undying love for children. I could’ve never handled Yev on my own, you know that?”

“Jesus, I couldn’t even protect my own siblings. Mandy had to get beat up and raped for the better part of her life. Not like I had it any better. I mean, I know we don’t talk about this shit but there is a fucking part of me that’s always going to resent Lana, you know what I mean? It ain’t like it was her fault, she was just doing what the fucker told her to do but I dunno…” he choked with surging emotion. “I wouldn’t be saying this shit because I don’t got the balls but…that was probably the worst fucking day of my life,”

“Because it’s not that I was fucking another girl. I was forced to fuck her in front of you. It tore me to fucking shreds, you know that? I still remember your face. It was so fucking awful and I couldn’t take how much pain it was causing you. I couldn’t look at your face, fuck, Ian. I couldn’t see you in pain. Never could. That’s why I flipped her over. You won’t fucking believe it but every time you’re in pain, I’m in greater pain. It’s some weird shit. So here’s for being so fucking selfish. If you get hurt, you’re hurting me,”

“And I hated hurting you, Gallagher. But I was such a fucking pussy. And I love Yev and you love Yev but I think back to that god-awful day and think where we could’ve been. If we’ve been spared of that tragedy,”

“I’m going to deny it if you bring it up later, but remember how you chased me down a few days before the wedding and how I beat the shit out of you? I’ve never hated myself more. I hated myself so fucking much for doing this. But I also hated you. I hated you with all my heart because you were doing this to me. You made me feel stuff about you. You made me hope for something. And I fucking hated hope. Hope meant nothing in this neighborhood. Hope meant nothing in the family. I thought if I kept you as my dirty fuck, I could get around that hope. But you were a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You didn’t stop hoping and I kept letting you down because I thought there was no hope for us. We were fucked-up kids, barely avoiding getting shot in our neighborhood, there was no room for love or that shit. That day at my house, I let myself be washed away in the griminess of it all. I had to get numb, you know. There wasn’t any other way I could do it. If I didn’t get numb, my dad would’ve killed you,” 

“If he’d killed you, Ian, I’d probably kill him immediately. Wouldn’t wanna go to jail, you see. That would have sucked,”


	2. Chapter 2

Day 3

 

“I don’t know what you see in these stupid slasher movies,” Mickey said, leaning back against chair. He wriggled in the wooden chair, its edges cutting onto his pants. It was starting to get uncomfortable but he endured it for the moment. “Just blood gushing out of heads, out of necks; out of eyes…you’re the only fucker capable of enjoying this shit,”

The television in the room was turned on today. Mickey flicked through the channels initially to find a wrestling match or an action movie to help him skate through the tedium but after coming across an old horror movie that he knew Ian would have jumped to watch, he couldn’t move past it. Ian was unconscious but watching bits of the video beside an unconscious body was perhaps the only way to sustain one of their habitual experiences that Mickey craved for. 

“Iggy called me a few minutes ago. Everything’s going fantastic in the garage, fuck you very much for asking. You know that old lady who lives by that pawn shop? The one with the weird-ass gray curls? She was super concerned about you, Iggy says. She doesn’t think you can pull through. What a crazy old hag, she doesn’t know what a strong motherfucker you are. If I was there, I’d shut her up myself,”

“Ain’t her fault, though. You such a skinny idiot that anybody would be fooled. She’d freak to watch you hold a tire iron,”

Mickey smiled and stroked his chin, letting him sink back into the abyss of memory. “You were a class-A dumbass, weren’t you? What a stupid fucking idea to burst into the Milkovich home just to get a fucking gun back,” Mickey paused, a grin breaking across his mouth. “But that day changed my life, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know what I’d be doing if you hadn’t been asshole enough to keep chasing me through the years, Gallagher. I mean, I’d always known I was…gay, you know. It’s still hard for me to say it aloud, shit. When I was fifth grade or whatever and all the fuckers in my class started learning about girl parts, I knew something was wrong with me. Not only was I completely not fucking interested about the vagina, I was slightly…grossed out, dunno. Like, I couldn’t ever imagine putting my dick in that thing. I couldn’t even imagine looking at it without getting fucking creeped. But I let it go, because when you’re in fifth fucking grade, you don’t dwell on this shit,”

“In middle school, though, I knew I liked dick. My brothers tried to initiate me into straight porn and I tried jerking off to it but it took ages. Way longer than how long it’s supposed to take. But when I tried to rub off to photos of old male models, it took mere seconds. But I couldn’t fucking accept it. The old man spewed a lot of hate about queers, even going as far as leading mobs to beat them up. I knew I had to shove it under the fucking carpet and it physically ached me, you know. The denial, it was killing me slowly,” Mickey tried to blink back his tears but as he recalled those memories of his youth, the emotions kept bubbling up. 

“The worst fucking part was that the more I denied it, the more curious I was about the entire fucking ordeal. I’d watched enough gay porn but didn’t have an ounce of courage to try it on my own. My freshman year, I decided that the only way I could stop imaging a dick in my ass was if I tried fucking a girl,” 

A single tear streamed down his cheek and he didn’t move to flick it off. “You’ve heard the story before…but Jesus, you don’t know how shitty it felt. After popping my cherry with the one of the wenches in that whorehouse, I decided my future. I was going to be fucking alone and I better get used to it. Because I couldn’t even think about being with another girl ever again. It just felt so…wrong,”

“And you came into my life and fucked it all up. I won’t ever forgive you or myself but dammit, Gallagher, I don’t know what I’d be doing today without you. I’d be…what, working for my fuckwad of a father, probably be married to a dead-eyed, messed-up dropout. She’d be out fucking other guys and carrying their sperm-balloons while griping at me to be a man and provide for all of them without lifting a damn finger. I’d squirming in jealousy every time I’d spot a few queens in the street, being out and free with each other. Spend every night cracking mirrors. Jerking off to guys in secret. Being a man, that’s what they say it is, isn’t it?” 

“Fuck you, Gallagher. The day we first fucked in my bedroom…I just knew that I couldn’t let this one go. I fucking tried. I thought that this was gonna be the end of my all my queer curiosities and I could go back to being the straight, ragged asshole my dad’s raised me to be. I didn’t realize that I would want this. Want you. That I wouldn’t know how to live without it. With you, I found an escape,”

“I mean, Gallagher, don’t take this the wrong way. The first year, you were the escape. At least that’s what I thought you were. I could be myself with you, I could relax with you, I had something to look forward with you. And the simple fact that I was able to take your dick up my ass without feeling guilty or anxious made me so goddamn happy. You didn’t judge me, you didn’t look at me weird, and you knew how fucking good it felt to be with another guy. And there was a fucking part of me that was relieved when I realized that you were bold and rough despite sucking dicks. That being the way I was wouldn’t make me any less of a man. The idea of getting in the pool with a guy seemed much more possible to me. But that’s all it was, a fucking idea. I didn’t think of you as a person, I thought of you as a machine for a time there,’  
“But as you can fucking see here, you became something more down the way. Sneaky bastard, you really dragged me by the collar, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know when the fuck it happened. I mean, I knew you were more than a bag of balls when I saw you with that old fart…the doctor. Don’t know what it was about him that got you so blind. I’d known you’d fucked other guys and all that but that was when I wasn’t in the picture or away rotting in juvie. But the fact that you’d rather lick his asshole when I was right there in the picture…it shocked me. Like I wasn’t fucking good enough for you. Now I’m certain I’m not but back then? I was not convinced. I thought I was the one doing you the favour, I was the one who had you pining and begging. See, Gallagher, before you, I was a selfish prick. I kept quiet about my sexuality because I didn’t want to bear the fucking consequences. But when I saw you winin’ and dinin’ with that senile idiot, I knew I felt something for you. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was something for sure. I didn’t want you to be with anyone else. I wanted to be the only one worshipping you and shit, get what I mean?”

“And the day you told me you were leaving for the army? That’s when I knew…I fucking knew. I knew that I had fallen in deep love with you and wasn’t doing a fucking thing about it. I was a fucking pussy, man. Couldn’t even try to be as brave as you are,”

“You’re the bravest man there is and I’m gonna fall short, every single fucking time. This is why you fucking need to wake up. Seeing you with that gray-haired dweeb was bad but seeing you lie on a hospital bed with tubes attached to your body? That’s a million fucking times worse. Chin up, Gallagher. If you aren’t a pussy, show it to me, huh?” 

 

Day 4

The nurse entered and began refilling his IV. Mickey watched her movements closely in the case a crisis materializes and Ian needs emergency help. Everything there was to be known about taking care of Ian; Mickey wanted to guzzle down a chunk of it. She grinned at him and got about doing her work. 

“You know I could call the guy and get a bed in here?”

“How much would it fucking cost? Because all my savings is going this bugger’s care over here,” Mickey said, pointing his head at Ian. 

“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re gonna move anytime soon. We could make an exception,”

Mickey shrugged and continued staring at Ian. He knew the world wouldn’t end if he stopped staring but he was pretty damn certain his world definitely would. 

“How long have you both been together?” 

Mickey hesitated but decided it couldn’t hurt to fit in another conversation. “Um, six,” 

Her eyes broadened in surprise. “Oh wow. You guys started young, didn’t you?”

Mickey nodded.   
“Nothing quite young love, is it?” she smiled. Soon she left and Mickey sighed. He didn’t mind conversation with other people but slowly he had been getting used to the flow of talking to Ian. It generated a certain clarity and he could say shit he would never tell Ian if he was awake.   
“Gallagher!” he cheered out of boredom. “Wake up. Calling Ian Gallagher. Over and out. Gallagher. Roger that,”

“You’re a stubborn shithead, aren’t you?” Mickey said. “Anyways, it’s not like you give a shit about me. And that’s fine, Gallagher, I’m a piece of shit who’s been awful to you. I don’t deserve anything. Yet,” he paused. “I feel like I’ve hit some kind of jackpot. I’ve learnt from my brothers and shit that your first never sticks. Just cause you’re young and pulsing with testosterone is why your first love feels better than it is. But with you, somehow, forget about it getting worse; it’s only gotten better, man. Like sometimes…often I watch you sleep and I just fall back into these weird thoughts and I’m just in awe. It’s like I’m high or something, my head is loopy,”

“You’re so fucking beautiful that I need to touch you to believe it sometimes. Then I touch you again so I can convince myself that I’m allowed to fucking touch you. That you’re not some kinda contraband painting I can only stare at. But it’s not only about the red hair or how ridiculously tall you are and how amazing your body is,”

“When you sleep, I see the peace coming onto your face. I see kindness and I see love and I stay up the whole night wondering how in the world did someone become so damn perfect? It’s not fair to us losers,”

“It’s certainly not fair to me, because every now and then, I think about how I must be such a fucking disappointment for you. I hold you back in this crap South Side neighborhood when you could be out there with a guy who will give you stuff and take you out and tell you he loves you with flowers or some shit. But then I realize that that guy probably won’t deserve you either. At the end of the day, no one fucking deserves you. You’re too good, you’re too fucking good,”

“So I count my lucky stars and fall asleep knowing that I’ve got the best one,”


	3. Chapter 3

Day 5

 

“I don’t know why he fucking hates me,” Mickey said, taking a sip of his beer. He was quite certain that he wasn’t allowed to drink in the hospital but he was prepared to throw a punch if they dared to kick him out. 

Lip had visited a while ago, bringing along with him several commodities for Mickey such as crackers, chips, magazines, porn magazines, Carl’s old gameboy and the newspaper. He even shed his sarcasm and talked to Mickey like they were acquaintances, if not friends, who have something in common beyond their profound concern for Ian. 

“I mean, we’re not all that different, you know. He’s good with science, I’m cracking with numbers. We both fucked each other’s siblings, both been born and raised in this shithole of a neighborhood,” 

“Whatever, the fuck I care,”

But of course, Mickey knew that he couldn’t cut it and shove the truth under his throat, as he did most days. Plus, it’s not like anyone was listening, he could slide through the honesty train unscathed. 

“When you were MIA and shaking your can at the club without anyone knowing, that fucker came down and told me if I’d seen you. A lot of things ran through my mind. I wanted to punch the skull out of you for blabbing to him, like what the fuck, you couldn’t keep one damn secret in your pants. I wanted to knock his teeth out for being such a smarmy prick, like he’s worthy of knowing our personal shit and holding it in his hands like his precious dick,” he said. 

“Most of all, I felt fear,” he admitted. “Man, you have no fucking idea what a fucking horrible time I was having while you were gone. I thought of you every second, every damn minute. I even tried jerking off to that photo of yours a few times, but couldn’t do it. I dunno why. Maybe because the idea of pining after some cocksucker seemed insane to me… and also because I wished you were there. Part of me missed ya because you were the only with who I could be myself, part of me missed ya because…I don’t know, it really missed you,”

“Four years looked like an awfully long time to be away from someone. Even someone as fucking annoying as you. My dad, my brothers, they were all home. The Russian whore walked around like she owned the whole place, just because she was carrying my damn spawn. I couldn’t function…Jesus, Gallagher, I couldn’t…” he croaked out. 

“I even fucked this redhead whore in the stall. I tried putting your face to her body but…there’s something about you, Gallagher, something so ridiculously shitty about you…that’s just irreplaceable. I mean, I wanted to enjoy the fuck out of her, but my body…it just didn’t. Or maybe it did, but I couldn’t tell because I thought about you,”

“When your snarkdick of a brother came to ask about you, I knew something was up. I’d known how much you’d wanted to join the army and carry the weight of this broken-ass country and get your arms blown off. I could tell you were in trouble. I decided that I had to see you, that if there was even a fucking possibility of seeing you again, I’d take it. That’s how fucked-up I was over you. I tucked in a shirt, sprinkled on some cologne and knew I wasn’t coming back without meeting ya,”

“Imagine my shock when I saw you at the club that night. Your gangly ass giving some tight pedo a lap dance, letting yourself be used and abused by those old shits. Letting them feed you drugs and then take advantage of you like you were a scum on the side of the road. Of course, you were doped up on drugs so you wouldn’t hear a single thing I was saying. I waited outside, knew you’d come out at some point. Wanted to kill that old fag, how dare he try to molest you, fuck,”

“There was a reason why I took you to my fucking hellhole and not your kid-friendly paradise. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you and I watched you sleep the whole fucking night. That was the first time I’d watch you sleep and it somehow…comforted me. I can’t fucking explain it, like I liked knowing you were safe and at peace. The habit stuck, for some stupid reason,”

“I didn’t know it at the time, but Ian…” Mickey touched his hand with Ian’s and put his lips on his finger, trying to feel some life within him. “I told myself that I’d never leave you. Not in my fucking life. And I’d never let anyone hurt you,”

“Maybe that’s the night I fell in love with your ginger ass,” assumed Mickey. “Or maybe it could’ve been the countless other times since then. Basically, Gallagher, every time I’m around you, I fall in love with you. Every fuck, every kiss, every smile, every touch…as long as you’re there, Gallagher, I’m falling,”

 

Day 6

 

“You know, I went home today...” revealed Mickey. “Just for a quick change of clothes and a nice hot shower. Nothing too fancy, of course, my stomach started turning every time I thought of you rotting in here,” 

“It could be the gassy lunch, though, who the fuck knows,” he said. “I grabbed some of your meds from the cabinet. I know I’m a fucking idiot because you’re in a coma and all, who the fuck is going to open your mouth to drop down a few anti-psychotics? But…they…” Mickey fumbled with the bottle. “Reminded me of you,”

“It felt unnatural to be opening the cabinet and not checking to see if you’d taken them,” Mickey grinned. “Since we’re doing bloody mary confessions here, I should probably fess up that I count your pills every day, so to verify if you’re taking them. Not because I don’t trust you to take’em because I do, trust me, I fucking do but…I dunno, I like knowing and feeling certain that you have,”

“See, Gallagher,” Mickey began. “I don’t want to take any chances with your bipolar. I feel like you’ve been doing pretty damn well with them meds and if you somehow skip out on them a day or two, that would fuck all the progress in the ass. And this is not Mickey the bloody paranoid asshole speaking, this is just…Mickey, the boyfriend who gives a shit,”

“Your first spell at depression…I’d never been in more denial, Gallagher, to be honest. And this is coming from a guy who lived in the closet for about nineteen years. I’d just gotten you back, and I’d just come out and I didn’t want some risk of a disease to take anything away from us. You were with me, finally, and nothing could come in between. I sure as fuck wouldn’t let it. I shunned the help of your siblings and I insisted that you needed no help and that I would personally take care of you,”

“How did that work out huh?” Mickey said guiltily. “I fucked up bad. I fucked up the worst. I thought I could take care of you and I failed. It wasn’t just disappointment or the annoying feeling of incapacity but the fact that my fucking stubbornness put you in danger. How the fuck would I ever deal with that? I was quick to man up but I couldn’t take care of you or give you the help you need, fucking hell,”

“When your siblings told me the shit your mother did, I had a pricking feeling in my throat. I dunno why, I tried booze to wear it off, but didn’t work. I couldn’t believe that the game of roulette chose you. You, after all the pain and the hurt, you, the purest of all the Gallaghers, YOU had something else on your way to wreck you. It wasn’t fair and I was fucking angry,”

“After the anger, it was…some sort of a minor confusion,” Mickey said. “I mean, it must have been the booze talking but for a second, I was stupid enough to consider leaving you over your diagnosis. Completely batshit idea, because that lasted for..what, an hour? Maybe three?” 

“But I decided to come back, didn’t I? It was no decision, it was a fucking compulsion. There was no fucking way I was leaving my Ian. Bipolar, broken arm, murderous assassin, I was all in with you no matter what. Whatever help you needed, I’d give it to you. Whatever taking care there was to do, I’d do it, no questions asked. I’ve dealt with craziness since I was breastfeeding but there was some sort of honour to deal with craziness of someone you loved, ya know what I mean? Like the psychology that drives fucks like you to the army, I guess,”

“And every since that night when I came into your room and lay with you the whole night, I’d known, deep inside, that we…we were doing to do it,” Mickey smiled through his tears. “We were going to get through it all, and there was no fucking point debating it. Fuck, you’re it for me and if I can’t be there for you, then what the fuck is the point to living or breathing? It’s all decoration,”

“ I live and breathe for you, Ian, and you’re doing me the kindest fucking honour to have a piece of shit like me in your life,”


End file.
